You know when spring is on it’s way when the spindly, skeletal trees start to have a green shimmer about their edges and you can almost sense the latent energy of the sap rising and the buds about to explode. In the shortest time, the leaves unfurl and when they first come out, they have a unique translucence that only lasts for a brief time. On a sunny spring day the leaves seem like coloured glass, they’re almost luminous as they filter and soften the harshest sun rays. My mother calls it “May green” and she always looks forward to it. I’ve inherited this from her.
One spring I went for a walk in Burnham Beeches and took my camera. I shot two rolls of film and most of these were just the camera pointing straight up. You can see why they say that masons got their inspiration for gothic cathedrals from the forests. Tall reaching columns; wood, turned stone, branches, fan vaulting overhead. I took endless photographs of latticed branches and twigs like a mad organic tracery and leading in a cathedral window of luminous leaves; a close-toned, harmonised creation in stained glass. But not rigid. Moving, stirring, swaying with the breeze as though breathing itself. I wanted to capture something of this, so I made “Canopy”. It hangs in my bathroom, high at the end of the bath and when I’m lying in the tub and look up, it’s like lying under a tree.